To You, From Me, with love
by Scription Addict
Summary: Grace needs to write a letter, to explain how it was. Boyd/Grace.


**To You, From Me.**

**Pairing: Boyd/Grace**

**Rating : T**

**Grace needs to write a letter to someone. This was a challenge as set out below.**

* * *

**To You,****  
**

I don't know if you'll believe this, but I think about you all the time, I wonder what you're doing, how you are, who you're with, well I guess I know who you're with, but I'm sure you know what I mean. I carry the picture of us together with me everywhere, never let it out of my sight, I know it's the closest I'll ever get to you again. I need you to know that I loved you, no matter what happens or what is said, I loved you, actually make that love you, because that will never change, I will always love you.

It was stupid really, how it happened, you change one thing, and it alters the course of your life forever. That was all I did, I changed one thing, one stupid bloody thing, and it has changed my life, forever. I bet you're wondering what I'm waffling on about, but it will make sense, I promise it will.

You see, every day I had the same routine, I would buy a coffee from a small coffee shop, and then sit at one of the tables and drink it whilst I scoured through the job section of the paper. The job I was at was coming to an end, and I needed to find something else. I knew where I wanted to work, what I wanted to do for my ultimate dream job, but I felt I was still a long way from achieving that; so, I needed to find a job, any job, just something that would pay the rent and the bills, and feed me. But that day was different, it was a spring day, and the first one of the year that saw us basking in glorious sunshine, it really was much too nice a day to be sat inside. So I took my coffee to a little park across the road and sat on the grass, reading my paper, and people watching. It was then that it happened. I nearly jumped out of my skin, first with shock and then with the feel of the hot liquid against my skin, I didn't even notice the football that had hit me, all I was worried about was not being scolded by the hot liquid, fortunately it had cooled enough not to cause any damage. So it was the football that hit me you see, well the football hit me first, followed by a whirlwind being caused by them running at me, all apologies and hands trying to brush me down.

It was stupid, I knew it was stupid. I knew what I should have done, I should have walked away, got up and just walked away, the very moment that bloody football hit my coffee and knocked it down my top, I should have walked away, but I didn't, instead I did something I never do, something I shouldn't have done this time, but I did.

At first I was angry, but those eyes shone and that smile, or rather grin, a boyish grin, it hit me harder than the football, he was shockingly good looking. He offered to drive me home, said his car was close by and that it would save me having to use public transport in that state. So I accepted, all the rules I usually live my life by went out of the window, and I accepted a lift from a man I'd never met before. There was something about him, a look, something that shouted out trust and safety. Yeah, I think it's pretty safe to say that I fell for him the moment I saw him.

Of course it helped that he had a young boy with him, a good looking young boy, with dark eyes and cheeky grin, you didn't need to be a genius to see the family resemblance. He was the image of him, he was also well mannered and polite, and he looked like a real little heart breaker. The more I got to know him, the more I realised that there was something else behind those beautiful eyes, a sadness that I couldn't understand at the time, but I did, many years later.

But, back to that day, his name was Peter, and the boy, he was Luke. They drove me home, and I don't know why but I invited them in, I only had a small flat, a kind of studio flat that was all open plan, the only thing closed off was the bathroom, oh hang on, I'm digressing again. I made them a drink and then left them whilst I got changed, when I returned I found them watching TV, they looked so comfortable, liked they'd been there a million times before, and I guess I knew then that this was something special. He asked me out, Peter that is not Luke. He asked me to have dinner with him, told me Luke would be back with his Mum that evening, they had separated six months previously, no one else involved, not for either of them, they just weren't happy together.

I accepted his invitation, but you probably guessed that already, we had dinner and we talked, and then we went for a stroll and talked some more, then we had a coffee and talked. It was like we'd known each other a life time, the conversation never stopped flowing, and we never struggled for something to say, neither of us. He told me about his marriage and his son, I told him about my work, what I was doing now and what I wanted to do in the future. He was a policeman, which was a rather bizarre coincidence considering I wanted to be a criminal psychologist. My ultimate aim was to be a profiler, but there wasn't much call for them back then, they were used by forward thinking officers, ones who could see the need for them, but most still thought it was a lot of old clap trap and all they needed was good old fashioned police work, and a nose for a villain.

That evening was the start of something special, and we saw each other most evenings after that. If he had Luke staying I would cook dinner for them, and we would all spend the evening together. Luke was special, he had a charm about him just like his father had, the more I got to know him the more I liked him, and I think it was the same for him, once he even asked me if I was going to move in with his Dad, so we could live together, but we weren't ready for that.

The next three months were some of the most memorable of my life, I was happier than I had been ages. I got a job at a secure hospital that housed some of the most notorious prisoners in the country at that time, people that were given indefinite sentences. It sounds a strange thing to say, but I loved it, the job wasn't anything special, I was assisting a psychiatrist, taking notes and that kind of thing, but it still meant I had a foot in the door of where I wanted to be, things really couldn't be better.

Then things started to change, Peter phoned me one afternoon to tell me that Luke had gone missing, he hadn't turned up at school that day, and his mother said she had found his uniform still at home, so he'd obviously had no intention of going to school. The local police found him sleeping rough a few days later, he gave no explanation, and sadly, it was to become the first of many times that he ran away.

Peter was worried sick about him, he tried to talk to him, but he got nowhere. That's when he asked me to talk to him, he though my training may be able to help, that and the fact that Luke and I got on so well. I reluctantly agreed, I wasn't happy about it, I felt I was interfering in things that were none of my business, it was for his parents to sort, not me, but I did it anyway.

Peter brought Luke to my flat, something he'd done many times before, but this time he left him with me, going off on the pretext of a work crisis. I made Luke a drink and we sat and talked, starting off on the things we always talked about, football, TV, music, he seemed happy with me. Then I gently asked him some prying questions, I told him I didn't think he was happy and I wondered why, but I didn't get any straight answers, I asked him whether things were difficult at home, with his Mum, but again he just shrugged his shoulders. I even asked him outright why he kept running away, but he said he didn't know, he just wanted to go. I wish more than anything that I could have helped him, that I could have worked out what the problem was and saved him, but I couldn't.

A couple of days later Peter came round to see me unexpectedly, he asked to talk to me. I knew straight away that something was wrong, and my first thought was of Luke, that he'd gone again. This time though, it wasn't about Luke, it was about us, he was ending things between us. He explained as best he could, saying that he felt it would be better if Luke had a stable home environment, so he had decided to get back with Mary, to give his marriage another go. He told me he loved me, and I knew it wasn't just words, I could see by his face how much it was hurting him, and because I could see how much he was struggling, I didn't fight him on it, I decided to just let him go.

We tried to just walk away from each other, but the moment he put his arms around me for a goodbye hug it turned into something more, we kissed, and eventually spent one last night together. He tried to make light of the situation, told me I would be top of his list if he ever needed a criminal profiler, and then he held me one last time. For a while he seemed unable to let go of me, eventually he did, and I was devastated. I never even told him I loved him, not on that day, I couldn't make it any more difficult for him, so I pulled out of his arms and let him walk out the door, trying my hardest not to cry, although I knew he was.

When the door was closed I broke down, sure I'd never find anyone like him again, I know I sound like a soppy teenager, but I really did think my life was over, my heart was broken, and I thought it would never be whole again.

* * *

So that's the story, and now I'm sat here, in the same London coffee shop that I used all those years ago, waiting for you. I don't normally get nervous about things, but today, today I have it all, sweaty palms, shaking hands, a stomach full of butterflies, the full works. I don't even know if you'll show up, you might get cold feet, think better of it, and I wouldn't blame you, I really wouldn't.

I've been nursing the same cup of coffee since I arrived twenty minutes ago, I've stirred it that much I think it's curdled, and every time the door opens I almost jump out of my skin.

Then it happens, the door opens and I see you, I know straight away that it's you, tall, broad, and gorgeous, as you walk over to me I really do think my heart will stop.

You hold out your hand and speak softly. "Grace?" I nod my head, unable to find the words to answer you, so you speak again, "I'm Sebastian, and I'm your son."

Tears form in my eyes the minute you say the words, you have his eyes, those dark soulful eyes that show every emotion you're feeling without you needing to say a word.

"I'm really pleased to meet you." I say through sobs, a typical Mum eh, almost unable to speak for tears.

"I'm really pleased to meet you too." You reply, and you smile, it's his smile, their smile.

* * *

I didn't name you Sebastian, that was your adopted parents, they renamed you, as was their right. The moment I handed you over, you were their child, not mine. I called you Peter, Peter James to be exact. I wanted you to have something of your fathers, and the best I could do was to give you his name. I never told him about you, I didn't see the point, his life was complicated enough, I didn't want to cause him any more pain. Telling him he had another son that he would never see would have only hurt him more.

I moved away after we split up, my work meant there was always a chance I might have run into him, and however remote that chance was, it was too much of a chance to take, it would have done neither of us any good. I never stopped loving him, and when I found out I was expecting you I went through every possible scenario in my head to work out a way of keeping you, but it wasn't to be. It wasn't about my job or my career, and it was certainly never because I didn't want you, I wanted you more than anything, you were mine, ours. It was about what I thought would be best for you, I wanted you to be happy and have the best of everything, and I simply couldn't give you that. As a single parent I would have needed to work fulltime to support us and you would have spent your time being shipped between child minders and baby sitters, and even if I worked full time it would have been a struggle financially. I wanted more for you, much more, and I hope you got it.

Strangely enough Peter kept his word, and about ten years ago I received an offer of a job at a new police unit, it was being put together with the aim of reviewing so called cold cases, unsolved crimes. The unit was to be headed by one, Detective Superintendent Peter Boyd, and he had requested me personally. After the initial awkwardness we actually got on very well, it wasn't as it was before; I think maybe too much water has passed under the bridge for that, well maybe. But we're good friends, we have the occasional meal or share a bottle of wine, talk about old times and its good.

Boyd and Mary's marriage didn't stand the test of time, they split up after another five years, and it made absolutely no difference to Luke, who continued to run away. I think the route of Luke's problems were buried deep in his relationship with his mother, and got steadily worse after the breakdown of his parents' marriage, Mary was a highly strung and demanding woman, and Luke found her difficult to live with, just as Peter had. We found out much later that Luke had started drinking alcohol at the age of twelve, using it as a way of blocking out his difficult home life, but when that was no longer enough he moved onto drugs, and by the time Peter moved back home, he was already too hooked for it to make a difference. When I saw a sadness in his eyes I was right, he desperately wanted to get away from her, but he felt trapped by his love for her. For a while after I found out I felt terribly guilty, looking back he was giving all the signs that something was wrong, but I misunderstood, I got it wrong.

When the drugs had him hooked, he no longer cared about family loyalty and love, and he eventually left for good, losing touch with both his parents for some years. Peter eventually found him again, but by that time he was an addict with a severe problem, I'm sorry to have to write this, but your brother Luke died of a heroin overdose three years ago. I wish it could have been different, that you could have met him, he was a lovely boy and he could have been a lovely man, but he took the wrong road.

Peter never re-married and I never married at all, sad I guess, but I never met anyone who made me as happy as he did.

I'd like you to meet him, I think you'll like him, I know I do.

_**From Me, with love. xxx**_

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**_The End_**

Challenge was - B/G story set at least 10 years before S1, where he's separated, she's single, and she gets to meet Luke as a boy. Must include snogging, a misunderstanding and an ending that sets them up for being future colleagues that might, just might get together.

Bonus points for writing in first person from Grace's PoV. Extra bonus points for getting in an implied, non-graphic shag. 5000 words max, no higher than T rated.


End file.
